Code Lyoko: Code Revelation
by Mr. Mercenary
Summary: Not long after the events in Season 2, the Lyoko Gang are thrust into a whole new adventure. Has some strong language. Chapter 10 is Up.
1. 1: Introduction

**CODE: REVELATION **

**BOOK 1 OF 3**

**A CODE LYOKO NOVEL BY MATT THOMAS**

Though XANA has escaped to the real world and Aelita has been freed from his grasp, Jeremy and the Gang have realized the fact they may not so quickly return to their normal lives. Strange things are beginning to happen to them, things that they cannot explain.

And half a world away the worst also starts to happen. Ships, planes and people begin to vanish without a trace in the Bermuda Triangle at an alarming rate. Vessels thought lost from other eras in history begin to suddenly appear, derelict and crewless. And amidst it all, Air Force One and the U.S. President both vanish from the skies on their way to Miami.

Now, summoned by the powers that be and circumstances beyond their control, it's all up to Jeremy, Ulrich, Yumi, Odd, and now Aelita, in a race against the clock, to halt an evil so great that it dwarfs even XANA. And they must stop not only a disaster that threatens the world as we know it, but they must also stop the darkness that has begun to gather in their souls.

**DISCLAIMER I do not own Code Lyoko. I wish I did. I do own James Fitzgerald, Gregory Keaston, Jon Mandrel, and Sierra Smith, and the others not in the Series.**

**FROM THE AUTHOR: As you probably have noticed by now, the Introductory list of characters has been removed from the rewritten version. Though all of the characters mentioned both in the list and in the story itself so far will be seen further, count on others to shot their good or evil faces. I decided to rewrite the story because I realized it contained far too many mistakes, inconsistencies, and errors to be fixed by mere editing. I also have included more action and suspense, and have continued it, finally.**

**NOTE: if this story sounds as if it's going nowhere at first it's because I've read too many Clive Cussler novels for my own damned good. He has always begun his books with a seemingly unrelated chapter, as well as a gradual rising climax, so I'm drawing inspiration and doing the same in my own. Also I DO NOT own any of the CL characters in this story, only the ones I created myself. (Also on a last note this story takes place in a sort of alternate universe to the series, similar to how the videogame _The Matrix Reloaded_ is parallel to _The Matrix_ series. Some things that are mentioned in the series may or may not happen in this story.)**


	2. 2: Prolouge

**PROLOUGE**

**May 1, 1970, Somewhere off the coast of Vietnam**

**VIRTUOUS**

"Frequency Generators are operating at full capacity."

"Electromagnetic Coils charging."

"Check and check".

"All stations at standby."

"Check."

"Captain, we are ready for go."

"Roger that, test begins in T-minus five minutes".

So far everything had been going according to plan. The EM Coils and Frequency Generators were all running nominally and the _U.S.S. Virtuous_ was in top shape, its crew's morale high, all of its crew ready for this latest test, this latest rigor. The Bridge crew was in perfect order as well, keeping their ship under control and in order. First Officer James P. Fitzgerald was confident that whatever on God's green earth the U.S. Navy's plan for his ship was, it would go off smoothly and without a hitch. He was told only what his CO, Captain James Parker, knew himself. The scientists and researchers that had taken up residence with them these last few months were going to try out a radical new idea. These Scientists believed that generating both an electromagnetic field around the ship's hull using huge Tesla Coils, and bombarding the air around the ship with high frequency sound waves with something called a Sonic Sound Generator, would cause the ship to essentially become "invisible" not only to the magnetic mines that clogged the various waterways and canals that crisscrossed Vietnam like a checkerboard, but to the naked eye itself.

In the simplest terms, they were going to "cloak" the ship, science-fiction style.

In theory, the electromagnetic coils would negate the vessel's electromagnetic field, making her undetectable to magnetic mines. At the same time the Sonic Generator would charge the air around the ship, creating a "mirage effect". It would seem as if the ship had done a disappearing act. All the enemy would see would be a faint shimmer in the distance.

It sounded like madness to him. Then again, Vietnam was a war of madness. If this test was successful, the Viet Cong and the Communists in general would never know what it was that hit them, literally. He let his mind wander for a moment as he stared out at the deck, now cluttered with strange electronics and equipment. The potential for such technology was immense.

But potential success was still three minutes away, and maybe not even so. These things, to the best of his knowledge, had never been done before, but the pace of war caused many seemingly exotic and harebrained ideas to be questioned by the Military for possible use as weapons against their enemies. As in this case, it was super electromagnetism, sonic frequencies, and the Communists.

Fitzgerald only hoped that if this experiment were successful this night, its results would bring about a quick end to the Vietnam War. And he would be able to return home to his wife and young daughter. She would be turning Three this August.

"Two minutes to Test Sir."

"Roger that, Ensign."

The Chief Scientist aboard, Dr Ashton Cray, was making notes on a small clipboard. Two of his assistants, Dr. Anna West and Dr. Franz Hopper, were standing to either side of him, taking notes and/or making observations. Cray's colleague and good friend, Dr. Winston, was on the forward deck, making last-minute preparations with the crew.

"Commence final preparation stage."

"Aye-Aye sir."

"Electromagnetic Coils charging."

"Current regulators at one hundred percent."

"The Sonic Generators are active."

"All systems are still in the green."

"Roger that", the Captain says.

Fitzgerald turns to the Captain. "Captain, Permission to speak freely?"

"Granted." The Captain replies.

"I just realized something, Sir. We could all be at home right now, reading a book, instead of out here in the middle of nowhere, reading a book and not screwing with the Laws of Physics."

"I realized _that _when I joined the Academy."

That got chuckles out of several of the Bridge crew.

"Sixty seconds to test start", one of them says.

"Commence remaining preparation sequences," The Captain orders.

"Power distribution is grid at full power capacity."

"EM coils fully charged."

"Sonic Generators at one hundred percent charge"

"Thirty seconds to test."

The deck began to glow with a bluish light as the EM coils began to radiate with energy. At the same time, everyone began to hear a strange ringing in their ears.

"That ringing you may be hearing is the supersonic frequency being generated by the Sonic Fields," Shouted Cray, as if to make himself heard over the hum.

No one mentioned the hum, thought Fitzgerald as he began to wince from the sound. It wasn't painful, but annoying and making it difficult to think. The glow began to intensify around the ship. The surrounding waters seemed to shimmer and distort in strange ways. By all accounts, the thing seemed to be working. _Well I be damned_, thought Fitzgerald, it was going to work.

"_Ten Seconds!"_ He suddenly heard above the roar he now was hearing.

The _Virtuous_ literally began to vibrate. The lights began to flicker all over the ship. Monitors and dials began to malfunction.

"_Captain, our sensors are malfunctioning!"_

"_Five, four, three-"_

A monitor exploded at the far end of the bridge. Glass flew across the deck. An Ensign on the Bridge clutched his face, howling in agony.

The same instant arcs of electricity danced across the bulkheads on the deck of the ship, causing stored munitions to detonate in a spectacular fire works display. Metal fragments smashed through the Bridge's windows. One operator caught a piece right through his neck, cleanly decapitating him. A fountain of blood took the place of his head as it bounced across the deck, a surprised look in its face. Another fragment glanced off Fitzgerald's own head, slicing to the bone and sending him sprawling to the ground, barely conscious.

"_Shit!" _Someone screamed. Bridge operators took cover. Captain parker's fist flew down on the emergency stop on his armrest. To his horror, the countdown continued.

"Two, one-"

"_DAMMIT!" _was the last word Fitzgerald heard Parker say.

"Zero!"

"_Too late!" _Fitzgerald heard someone scream bloody murder before blacking out. At the same moment, everyone and everything on the _Virtuous _vanished in a blinding, blue-white light.

At that instant, the Virtuous seemingly vanished from existence, though only for a second, as the next second it reappeared, but radically changed. The charred, burnt-out hulk of the _Virtuous_ suddenly materialized, looking as if it had went through Hell itself. According to the survivors, it wasn't far from the truth. Out of five hundred and fifty crew, plus 4 scientists, only eleven survived the hell they claimed they had endured for what seemed an eternity. Eventually, all but three of those survivors were committed to mental institutions or insane asylums, the claims of being tortured and slaughtered systematically by monsters following a dark energy-creature muffled by cover-up and conspiracy.

And their claims that this dark evil's name was Xanadu, as well as the prediction he would soon unleash his darkness on Earth once again, were both muffled as well.


	3. 3: In the Beginning

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own code Lyoko. Only the characters I created myself.**

**UNIT 1: BIRTH**

**November 5, 2005**

**IN THE BEGINNING**

It was over, but not over.

The trips to Lyoko, Fighting Xana on his own terms, the restless nights of nervous anticipation of his next move, it had ended. Though Jeremy and his friends had won the battle and rescued Aelita, their new friend, Xana was still out there in the world somewhere. And they did not know what would be his next move. He now realized they had yet to win the war.

Jeremy's gaze drifted out the window to his friends. Those four were his best friends at Kadic Academy. Ulrich and Odd were practicing soccer on the field. Yumi and Aelita were doing schoolwork on the bleachers. Of course he was right where he liked to be most, at his computer. He had been working on a special program that would be capable of tracking the newly liberated Xana, but so far, no success. It was as if Xana had just vanished.

He relaxed for a moment, letting his mind slip. He remembered back to just three days earlier, when it had all happened. In a single day, Xana had escaped his virtual prison, Aelita the same, but not before the sacrifice of her father, the late Franz Hopper. Now they were without any apparent direction and without a clue as to where their nemesis could be.

Still it was only a matter of time before Xana made a move. The mystery was what would he do? How would he attack? Would they be able to stop him? Jeremy hoped that they would be able to.

For the first time in a long time, they had little else to do but to continue with their schoolwork and their lives.

On the soccer field, Odd was playing his hardest. He and Ulrich were tied 2-2, and Ulrich had the ball. Odd was struggling to keep up. Ulrich was rapidly approaching the field goal-

And Odd intercepted the ball, tripping Ulrich and making the tie-breaking shot, all in one move.

Odd walked over to Ulrich, helping him up.

"I guess I won."

"I guess you're just lucky," was Ulrich's reply.

"So, now that I have finally Beat the great Ulrich Stern, what else do you want to do?"

"Let's take a break for the moment."

"More like for the day." Odd replied.

"Whatever."

"I know why you want to give up. You just don't want to embarrass yourself in front of your girlfriend Yumi."

"She is not my girlfriend."

"If you say so, but I still think you are," Odd remarked

"Now that I think about it, I wonder where Jeremy is."

"Maybe the girls know."

He and Odd walked across the field to where Yumi and Aelita sat on the bleachers, talking closely. He had not seen Jeremy since breakfast and wondered if either of them did. Aelita was saying something to Yumi.

"-And then he gave me this wonderful dress to wear to the School Dance next week. It is beautiful. I'd think you'd-"And then she noticed the boys walking up.

"Oh ladies, do you know what Jeremy has been up to lately?" Odd called over to them.

Aelita spoke up. "Last I saw him, he was still in his room working on the program to track Xana."

"I wanted to ask him if he was having any success with it," replied Ulrich

"He has been there all day, working nonstop. He was the same way yesterday, hardly even leaving his room. I'm starting to get worried about him."

"Maybe we should go talk to him. Cheer him up a little."

"Yumi looked over to Odd. "Maybe you're right. "We should go talk to him. He would certainly need the company. Especially after all he's been through."

At that moment Odd's stomach growled.

"And he would need the food too," was his remark to that. "It's almost lunchtime."

"Then what are we waiting for," Aelita said, smiling. "Let's go find him."

And with that, they hurried toward the school building. As Ulrich climbed the steps, he stopped for a moment. He had a weird sensation that someone somewhere was watching them, closely. He looked around, but except for a few groups of schoolkids, there was no one in the area watching him.

"Hey Ulrich what's wrong. Why'd you stop?" Odd had noticed him looking around him.

"It's nothing. C'mon, let's go." At that they entered Kadic.

Little did Ulrich know, He and his friends _had_ been watched, and were still. Parked next to a gas station across the street from the school sat a large van painted out as a news van from a local TV station. If the particularly observant would have noticed, they would have seen that its antennae and satellite dish were much too large for it to be just a news van. And they would also have noticed that the driver and passenger were not reading the newspapers propped on the dashboard, but were concerned with other matters at the moment. The Driver was looking through a pair of large, high-powered binoculars toward the school. The Passenger was fingering a small keypad fixed to a laptop computer in his lap. With the movement of his fingers, the satellite array atop the van moved as well.

"Okay, I think they're probably moving to Blue's room. I'm transferring feeds to the bugs, now." A small click and buzz could be heard in the cargo area where shelves of sensitive electrical equipment lay. On top of the van the dish moved slightly.

A new window appeared on the laptop's screen. It showed an insect's eye view of a room inside the school. In it was a boy leaning back in his chair, staring at a computer monitor.

In the van's cab, a small satellite phone rang. The Driver put down his binoculars and answered it.

"Well, if it isn't T-Bone. Why are you calling us directly?" the Passenger looked up from his work, stunned, and swung his gaze to the driver. "What is the matter-"

The Driver stopped for a moment. Then his eyes grew to the size of dinner plates.

"What do you mean something's happening?... At Miami? What the hell?" another pause. The Driver was clearly disturbed. "Okay, I understand. All agents are being pulled back to the Safehouse until further notice from the top." He hung up. "This is just frickin' great."

"What's going on?" Asked the Passenger.

"Air Force fricking One, that's what's up. It went down en route to Miami, _with the President aboard_."

"Holy Shit!" was the Passenger's immediate reply.

"That's not the half of it. They're thinking it has something to do with our little operation here. That it has something to do with," he glanced in the direction of the school, "Them."

They sat there, letting it sink in. "What do we do?" the Passenger asked.

We're going back to the safehouse, that's what. And wait for further orders."

"I understand." The Passenger turned off his laptop and closed it.

The Driver then solemnly started the van and sped out of the parking lot.


	4. 4: Supposed Demise

**SUPPOSED DEMISE**

A half-hour earlier, somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean

"Your coffee, Mr. President."

"Thank You."

It was still early morning outside the huge jet as it made its made its way toward the Eastern American Seaboard. Michael Thornton could have blended in on any American flight. In his mid-forties, he was a clean cut, respectable man with a firm handshake and a pleasant demeanor. He looked like any businessman. But Mike, as his close friends called him, was not just any regular traveler.

He was the President of the United States.

It was a position that commanded a great deal of respect. The leader of one of the most powerful countries on earth was not to be taken lightly. It was also a position Thornton earned. He was the first person in nearly a half-century to be elected to the Presidency who did not come from either of two of very elite houses, bar two, the U.S. Senate and the State Governors. The only exceptions were George Bush Sr. and Gerald Ford. He was now the third exception.

Mike Thornton was in fact a lawyer. Even though he had practiced law in his home state of Ohio for nearly a decade before moving to Washington D.C. and gaining an interest in politics, he was still a man of dignity and strong values. And he was a family man as well. His wife and young son however were not aboard. His mind began to return to the thoughts about his impromptu trip as he sat in the plane's small but spacious office.

His trip to Egypt had not gone so well. The day before, an American aircraft carrier had collided with a passenger ferry in the Suez Canal in a heavy fog and there were hundreds of deaths, and the President had visited the Egyptian Prime Minister personally to assure him it was not a deliberate hostile act. The Prime Minister however was not satisfied with the results of the joint investigation so far, and was demanding reparations.

The whole thing was bizarre. By all intents and purposes the accident should not have happened. According to witnesses, the strange fog came out of nowhere, settling on the canal in a thick blanket. At the same on both ships, the radar equipment conveniently malfunctioned. Minutes later the two ships had collided head on with each other in a cacophony of screeching steel and the screams of people. _Very_ bizarre. The strangest thing was that witnesses to the catastrophe said they had seen a strange symbol in the fog right before the-

"Mr. President." Someone had come in and had been calling his name to get his attention.

"What is it?" The person calling him was an intern, a young secretary. She was holding a cell phone. "It's for you Sir. He says it is important, and that he knows you." Her face showed a look of shock.

"Well then who is it?"

"I don't know Sir. He won't give me his name. He wants to speak to you and only you."

The President, now wondering who the person was, took the phone. "Hello?"

"Hello Mr. President," a sickly voice said coolly from the other end. The voice gave the President chills. "I'm sure your trip to Egypt went well." The trip had not yet been revealed to the public, short of those who would have to have been notified of his departure. Who was this and how could he have known?

"Who is this? How did you get onto a secure line?" the President demanded.

"All in good time Mr. President, all in good time. It's you that I'm interested in. You're the most powerful man in your country, which in turn is the most powerful nation on earth. You see, Mr. President, I'm new to your world, everything is so strange here. So I decided to send the world a little message to announce my arrival."

Several Secret Service agents entered the office, trying to get the President's attention. They knew this was an unusual call.

"What do you mean Arrival?" The President was clearly getting upset. He wanted to know who this person with the strange voice was. He silently mouthed "Trace the call" to one of the agents, who then hurried off.

"I mean my arrival here on earth, of course. I have been trapped in a dank, dark hole for as long as I can remember, and believe me it feels _so good_ to be out. But back to the reason for why I called. I want to let the world know I'm coming, and what better way than to do it than with a _bang_.

"What are you saying?" The President then got it. "You mean that you-"

- The voice finished for him. "Were behind the accident in the Suez yesterday, yes, I was."

"Then who the hell are you?"

"My name is Xana, remember it, Mr. President, or should I call you Mickey? Isn't that the nickname your mother gave you?"

"How do you know that?" The mention of his mother by this stranger had really gotten to him. Fortunately a Secret Service agent rushed in, and mouthed silently: "We don't know where he's calling from."

"I sensed it in the depths of your mind, Mickey. I found that telepathy is one of my new abilities. Even though we are miles apart, I can sense what you are thinking through this phone."

The President was clearly angry now. He realized that he was not dealing with just some clever computer-hacking crackpot. He had to take this guy serious he knew how to get a line to the most secure plane on earth and he knew about his own personal life.

"Mr. President, the Suez incident was just to draw you out to where I could plant my 'bugs' on your precious plane. You see Mr. President, I have decided that _you_ are to be the message. A message the whole world will hear. Tough break." And with that, the line went dead. The dial tone returned.

The President turned to the Secret Service Agent. "Did you find out who that was?"

"No sir. We went as far as a relay station on Bimini, about a hundred miles south of here. From there the signal originates, but that's not possible, because the station is unmanned."

"Did you guys get that part about bugs?"

Yes sir, I believe we did. I'll have a security team sweep the plane, just in case we find anything."

"Thank you, that is all."

With that, the Agents turned and began to walk toward the door to leave.

But they never reached it. At that moment the door was ripped off its hinges with terrific force, thrown into the compartment. Two of the agents immediately hit the deck, the third jumped across the desk and tackled the President to the ground.

The President looked around the corner of the desk at the thing that threw the door.

Standing in what was left of the doorway, at the President's horror, stood what appeared to be a gigantic, robotic crab, its red shell and its six blank eyes staring out at its preprogrammed targets. It s eyes began to glow-

-And a blast of energy shot out from it, hitting the first Agent in the chest. He flew backwards, dying before he even hit the ground. The second Agent unloaded with his standard issue Uzi Submachine gun, hitting the creature in the eyes, blinding it. The Crab-robot screeched in pain and stumbled backward, as if it did not expect to be injured in such a manner.

And then it was riddled with submachine gun fire from behind by another two Agents who had rushed in from behind.

The gunfire hit the large symbol in its back, and at that moment it crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

"Mr. President, are you okay?" the remaining agent shouted over to him. Sounds of further laser blasts and gunfire emanated from elsewhere on the plane The President knew instantly that there were more of these freakish things aboard. He climbed over the now lifeless shell of his would-be assassin and into the next compartment. He saw the secretary who had given him the phone minutes before, slumped over a desk, her face burned off by a laser blast.

"Agent, what the Hell is going on!"

"I don't know sir. They came out of nowhere, caught us all off guard. We need to secure the plane. They tried to take the cockpit but the pilots barricaded themselves in, and we can't reach them on radio. Half of us are dead or are dying sir. And the other half is fighting these things. Those symbols are their weak points I think."

"Sir, we need to get moving, these things are all over the place."

"There are more of them?", Asked the President.

"Yes Sir, those, and others like them. We fought a pair of these little roach-things on our way up here, and there are more of those big red things further back. Christ, they came out of nowhere. Sir, we need to get the hell out of here-"

"And go where? We're at thirty-five thousand feet," the President retorted.

The cockpit. If we can reach it, we can take control of this heap and call for help, at least we can-"

At that moment, an explosion somewhere aft shuddered through the plane. A moment later, the President felt _wind_.

Ah, shit, the fuselage's been punctured, we're losing pressure!" One of the Servicemen said.

"Then let's get the hell to the Cockpit before we suffocate," the President ordered.

The group quickly traveled up to the next deck and forward, meeting no resistance at all. Thornton realized as the pressure leaked out, it became more and more difficult to breathe. They had to seal off the ruptured area, and quick.

At the first-class cabin, the President realized he had counted his blessings too soon. Standing at the door to the Crew area and Cockpit were a pair of the crabs, and at least a half-dozen of the "roaches", all firing at the rapidly disintegrating door, as shouts and cries issued from behind. When they creatures realized that they had company, the roaches rotated around and began to lay suppression fire on the assaulters.

The remainder of the Secret Service team with the President all took cover behind seats, as energy blasts whizzed over their heads. They began to shoot around the seats, keeping themselves covered.

"Damn, this shit's insane!" one of them screamed.

Suddenly, a staggering amount of automatic gunfire erupted from behind the tattered door, further disintegrating it and spraying the crabs head-on. One promptly collapsed, the other staggered for a moment, before it too crumpled.

A moment later, amidst the whizzing bullets from both sides, the remaining roaches, in a final act of bizarre, _jihadi_-style suicide, turned their lasers on each other and killed themselves off.

It was all quiet for a moment. Thornton did not know whether to credit that silence to a lack of air to carry it or to the shock of sudden and brutal battle on friendly territory.

The Agents suddenly sprang into action, storming into the Cockpit area, guns at the ready.

What they found was not the reception of shocked, fellow Agents, but an empty cockpit whose only occupants were the flight crew on duty, all dead. By the smell, they were all electrocuted.

One of them went for the flight controls. "Everything's ruined. No wonder they never sealed off the hull breach."

Everything necessary to fly an airplane in the cabin had been turned to slag, monitors, panels, and dials, all reeked of acrid burnt electrical equipment. Air Force One was now a lame duck, and the altimeter, one of the only instruments that still functioned, showed they were losing altitude, and fast.

Air Force One was going down.

An Agent started. "Where's the rest of them, the guys who were shooting out at those-, those things?"

"Wherever they are, they're no longer here," another replied.

"Then spread out across the plane," The lead Agent ordered. Find any remaining survivors that-"

The lead Agent stopped suddenly. Then he noticed a strange glowing aura around himself and his charge. Then the President noticed too.

_What the hell- _was the President's last conscious thought as his bodyguards, himself, and everyone still alive on board Air Force One vanished in a bluish-white light, right where they stood. The only people remaining on board were those who had been already killed by the Creatures.

Exactly one second later, in the skies over the Atlantic, the Most Important Airplane exploded in a gigantic fireball, the special sensors attached to microexplosives on the plane's fuel tanks no longer detecting the President's heartbeat. The chunks of the airplane plunged into the ocean, leaving trails of smoke as they fell. Soon, some debris would be left bobbing on the surface, bits of seat cushions and plastic, marking where the jet, and the First Man, had met their fiery and explosive end.

For all intents and purposes, to the rest of the world, Michael Thornton, the President of the United States of America, was now dead.


	5. 5: It Will Only Get Worse

_I would have been able to update sooner had I not had a mountain of schoolwork to do. Well, here is Chapter 3._

**IT WILL ONLY GET WORSE**

_2 days later_

Kent "Rocky" Perego was doing his best to sleep, but he simply wasn't tired. A thousand different thoughts spun through his head. The loss of the President and uncertainty about his employment in the imminent future were predominant. The job he and his longtime partner, Johnny "Scooter" Colenso had been asked to join in France was not exactly what he expected. It was a long fall from Navy Seal to secret babysitter.

Things were getting out of hand. The loss of the President meant that their country was leaderless. And unless they could confirm his death, by that find his body, they could not swear in the Vice President. Sure they were finding remains, but not his. If they hadn't found them yet they probably

They also found bits and pieces of what they thought had killed him as well.

The recovered fragments of the "creatures" had been seized by the FBI, but T-Bone had managed to recover a couple of the fragments and sent them to the safehouse ahead of her. Unfortunately she would not join them for another week. He had looked at one of the fragments; a piece of what the ones they were watching called a "kankrelat." The symbol was essentially a stylized bulls-eye, staring back balefully at him. He thought of how he could have been somewhere else in the world, maybe in the Caribbean, enjoying Tequila and retirement, had it not been for T-Bone's sharp eye and persuasive words.

Well, they knew one thing; they could stop these robotic things with guns. The bullet-riddled shell of the 'kankrelat' proved it. Full-auto perhaps, preferably belt-fed. Explosives like grenade launchers and C4 could work as well.

After the Seals, he thought it was back to the civilian life for him and Colenso, but he somehow wound up in France, watching schoolkids and making sure the world was safe to exist another day. Still it was a job, and he was still in the game.

He had been on what seemed like dozens of different operations. Kosovo, Yugoslavia, Anti-drug operations in South America, Peacekeeping in Afghanistan and Iraq, He and Scooter had been all over the world, they had two dozen medals between them. Now they were here in France, watching a bunch of schoolkids. _Such_ a long fall.

Rocky got out of his bed, wondering since he couldn't sleep, what to do. It was pointless to watch TV. All that was on was talk about the President and his unfortunate death. And maybe talk about his visit to Egypt and the Suez incident. Certainly about the ever-rising death-rates in Iraq. He turned on the stereo and sat down on the sofa to relax. Some local underground band was playing.

Whatever happened from here on out Rocky knew, things would only get worse.

Aelita was dreaming again. Not the dream of the wolves and her childhood doll Puck like she used to have, this was different.

She was in Lyoko, walking through some kind of tunnel in the Mountain Sector. It was curved and round like those in the sewers, she somehow knew she had been walking a long time. Then she came to the end of the tunnel. She walked into some kind of vast chamber, with something in the middle of the room, some kind of statue. She couldn't tell who or what it was of. She walked to the far wall, which had some kind of writing or symbols on it. She placed her palm on a symbol set in the center, and then-

She woke up. It was the third night in a row she had had that dream, and it was starting to trouble her. She had been having it since that day, since she was out of Lyoko for good. She had thought she was free, but this dream, this vision, was keeping her there like a mental chain. It was as if something didn't want her to leave. Xana? She hoped it wasn't.

The clock on the wall read three-thirty. She realized she had to use the bathroom. It was something she was still getting accustomed too. She got out of bed and out into the hall. The restrooms were only a few doors down-

And then she saw him, standing in the hall just a few yards away. A man in a business suit, middle-aged by his appearance. Someone she had never seen. And he was looking directly at her.

Aelita was scared. But not scared enough not to stand her ground. She somehow thought she knew who the person was. And her friends weren't here to protect her.

"Xana, I presume?" She asked somewhat fearfully.

The stranger's reply was not in words, but as thought.

_I am not the person that you fear,_

_But I may be one that you hold dear._

Who was this, she thought, He didn't move his lips but he was talking. And there was something else that was strange about his appearance, something that she couldn't quite see.

_I may be strange, but don't be afraid,_

_Your future's path has been made._

"W-What do you mean?" she stammered.

_You have dreamt the dream of Ashton Cray,_

_His crypt is where your destinies' lay._

She had noticed what was strange about the figure. He did not cast a shadow. It was as if he was a ghost. And he was somehow shimmering with an inner light of some kind.

"But h-how do you get there? To h-his tomb?" she stammered even more after noticing this.

The man was suddenly a blur, and in an instant, he was in front of her, his hand was on her forehead. She saw flashes, images, as if they were being uploaded directly to her brain, pictures of a place on Lyoko. Two peaks, a pile of rocks between them, a pool of water.

An instant later the figure had suddenly returned to where he had stood moments earlier. Aelita suddenly felt dizzy, and leaned heavily on a wall for support. The world spun around her, her mind flooded with images.

"W-Who…are you?" she managed to get out.

_At first, I knew I had no name,_

_But X, you can call me by that name._

And with that, he vanished into thin air.

Aelita was still dizzy, her mind cluttered with images and pictures yet to be sorted out. It was a minute before the world stopped spinning. But a sentence kept playing over and over in her head: _His tomb is where your destinies' lay._

He meant her and her friends. But she couldn't trust him. It could've been Xana in disguise, trying to lure her friends into a trap. She would have to talk to the others tomorrow. She was too tired, she didn't want to wake them with this, and she still needed to go to the bathroom. The dream could wait.

Five minutes later, she collapsed in bed, exhausted. She looked over at the clock on the wall, Three Twenty-Eight. She wondered again if what the strange person had said was true. Her head still ached as she drifted into sleep's embrace.

It was nine-thirty local time In Washington D.C. as a meeting between various officials began in a relatively large room somewhere beneath the Pentagon.

About a dozen people sat at a large oak table in the richly furbished room, designed to look comfortable and spacious. The carpet was a shade of burgundy, as was the padding on the chairs. The people sitting in the room were some of the most well-known figures in Washington, with the exception of the two that were giving this presentation.

The man sitting at the head of the table was clearly old, his crisp, new three-piece suit and graying hair contrasting his wrinkles. Despite his years he had eyes sharp as a hawk's and a mind that was crystal clear. The others in the room knew Secretary of the Navy James Fitzgerald well. He had established himself in government as a as a member of the House of Representatives, serving multiple terms. He had flown with the President to Cairo, and was among the last to see him alive. The only reason he had not joined Thornton on his last doomed flight was to stay behind and help search personally for those still missing in the Suez. When he had heard that Air Force One was destroyed, he had been on the first plane out of Egypt to the U.S. He and Thornton had been old friends; his loss had hit him hard.

To Fitzgerald's right sat a woman who was as notorious in politics as Fitzgerald. Sierra Smith was the Assistant Director for Field Operations in the CIA, and a good friend of Fitzgerald's. She had spent the last year in the field and few of the men in the room were brave enough to challenge her.

"Well, I believe we all know what the reason we are all here is, so let's get started," Said Fitzgerald.

A young woman standing off to the side dimmed the lights. A projector at the back of the room flipped on, and Fitzgerald began to address those with him.

"Three days ago, Air Force One went down in international waters approximately eighty-five miles north-northwest if the Bahaman Islands, on its way to Miami, from Cairo, Egypt, With President Thornton aboard. Officially so far, it is being suspected as some kind of technical failure."

"And unofficially?" A man sitting in the far back asked. Fitzgerald recognized Vice President Oliver Logan, now the most important man in the country.

Fitzgerald Continued. "Unofficially, The FBI and the CIA suspect that Michael Thornton was assassinated."

"Assassinated? By who?" Was the general uproar at those words.

"Quiet, please." Fitzgerald said. "Ms. West, I believe you should continue from here.

West began. "Even we at the CIA are still trying to understand who the person we suspect is." West then began to speak.

"It is hard to decide where to begin exactly. But the most common place this saga has started was with a subsidiary program of a much larger one.

"During the Early Nineteen-Seventies, the need for a reliable information network in the Eurasian Theater became urgent. At the time, the former Soviet Union had begun a major upgrade in its logistics infrastructure, relying more and more on computers and electronic communication that were both still relatively new at the time. The project that was launched to monitor the U.S.S.R. and other threats to world peace abroad became known as Project Echelon."

An offshoot of Echelon was an offensive branch that would have been a powerful weapon against the Soviets at the time, had it not been for the actions of a lone enemy agent. An agent who, with the help of a computer program he had designed himself, attacked and destroyed the facility where the Carthage Program was located.

"I remember that," another officer replied. "It was hushed up, something to do with a gas explosion."

"In 1991, we had no idea how he had done it. But in light of recent events we have come to understand who, or what, we are now up against.. Let's just say that if we don't find a solution to this problem," and West paused for a moment. "Well, let's just say the future of the human race looks grim."

As the meeting continued, the faces of the people in the room showed awe, shock, and a realization of the fact that not only was their country not as secure as they once thought, but that the entire planet was at risk.


	6. 6: Ghosts Of Bermuda

_Well, this is something. It is the fourth chapter already. It seems like I started only yesterday. Things are gonna be getting good very soon, I can promise you that much. Chapter Four it is._

_November 8. Paris, France_

**GHOSTS OF BERMUDA**

The sun was just rising over the horizon, casting long shadows on the various buildings and houses, as well as on the Eiffel Tower, to which the CIA safehouse had a good view of. Scooter Colenso was watching the traffic speed by as he thought of the briefing he had received upon his arrival just a week ago. How a bunch of kids were being heroes.

His cell started to vibrate. He kept it on that setting, he didn't like the sound. He answered.

"Scooter here. Who is this?"

A familiar voice spoke on the other end. "It's T-Bone. What are you doing right now?"

"Nothing really, why?" He looked at his wristwatch. The luminescent hands read 6:14. You know its dawn right now over here. The hell's this about?"

"Do you have the news on? CNN I mean?" Scooter could somehow tell she was serious.

"Not right now. Again, what's this about?"

Scooter found the remote and turned the TV on. He cycled through the satellite program guide to the appropriate channel. It took a moment to figure out what he was seeing. A reporter in rain gear was shouting into a mike, despite this she could still be barely heard over the storm. The cameraman had zoomed in on a ship that was pretty close to the one she was on. All he could tell was that the vessel the cameraman was focused on was some kind of old freighter, a collier maybe. The camera then zoomed back out to view the reporter standing off to the side. She was still yelling above the storm, still impossible to make out what she was saying. He then realized what kind of ship she was on. An American Navy cruiser.

"Okay T-Bone, enough with the riddles. What is this-", Rocky was cut off as he saw what was happening.

The cameraman had zoomed back in on the vessel, but was now looking at the very bow of the ship, where the identification was, the rain lifted just enough to let them get a good view of the lettering. The wording he saw made him drop the phone:

**U.S.S. CYCLOPS**

**PHILADELPHIA**

"Shocking, isn't it?" Said the voice on the phone, now on the floor.

Rocky stared slack-jawed at what he was seeing. From what he knew about naval history, the _U.S.S. Cyclops_ had vanished in the Bermuda Triangle way back in 1918 during World War I, with 309 souls aboard. Without a trace. He scrambled to pick up the cell phone.

"What the hell is this, some kind of joke?" asked Scooter.

"CNN never jokes about stuff, especially this, and there's more. There have been some other sightings of missing vessels. The _Anglo Australian,_ _El Caribe, _and the _Poet, _among others all have supposedly been sighted. There's a frigate out there looking for the _Australian_ and there's another out searching for the _Poet_. They are still trying to find the others."

"Is that it?"

"There's word of disappearances as well. The luxury liners _Atlantic Paradise_ and _Caribbean Royal_ have gone silent, as well as several oil tankers and myriad other vessels. Those haven't been revealed to the public yet, and what were seeing shouldn't have had either. Those reporters were in the right place at the right time. They're embedded on board the guided missile cruiser _U.S.S. Gettysburg_ out there with the other ships at Ground Zero of Air Force One. Things are getting unstable here in Washington too."

"When are you coming back, by the way? We're starting to miss you here in France."

"We'll be there in a week," Replied T-Bone. "There are still a few politicians we need to talk to first."

"What do you mean by 'we'?" asked Rocky, curiously.

"There are a couple of guys that are coming to help out, as well as an old friend I'd like you to meet."

"Friends huh? I look forward to meeting them. Until then, I'll see you." He then hung up, just as Rocky, his long-time friend and war buddy, stumbled into the living room, still half-asleep.

"Hey Scooter, watcha doin'?"

"Just watching the tube. Sit down, I think you'll find it interesting."

It had been a long few days for the gang.

There was no way of knowing if what was happening was the work of Xana. The sudden death of the American President, this ghost ship appearing out of thin air, cruise ships vanishing, he couldn't help but wonder, though his thoughts kept being interrupted by the rumblings of his stomach. He figured that he would go to breakfast.

The search program he had designed was the closest thing he could come up with to a method to tracking the movement of their nemesis. He left it running overnight to calibrate it. He was startled to find he had gotten an e-mail in the night, sent to his private account. The contents were even more bizarre, and made him cautious.

The e-mail contained a single short message:

_Jeremy,_

_I could be your best friend or your worst enemy. You'll make that decision when we meet. You and your friends are in over your heads, and I may be able to help. I will find you when I need you._

_TF_

The e-mail scared Jeremy. Someone had finally found out about them. But who? This 'TF', who could it be? He would have to tell the others, they needed to see this.

In the hallway, he ran into Ulrich, literally. He had been walking from the bathroom looking at his hands, strangely, and wasn't looking where he was going.

Hey Ulrich, watch it!" Jeremy said as he fell to the fell to the floor.

"Huh? Oh sorry Einstein," He helped his friend up.

"Jeremy brushed himself off. "Maybe you could watch where you're going next time?

"Have you seen Odd?", Asked Ulrich.

"He's probably in the cafeteria. Where else could he be?" Then, to Ulrich's surprise, his friend's face took on a look of worry.

"There's something I need to talk to you about, but I'm not gonna say anything until everyone's together."

"It's that important, huh?"

"I believe it is," Jeremy replied solemnly.

When they got to the cafeteria, Odd was already there in their usual spot, eating voraciously as usual. They were surprised to find Aelita and Yumi weren't there yet, they were usually first. The blonde-haired boy saw Jeremy and Ulrich coming, and waved them over.

Ulrich looked around. Usually the girls were here before them.

"Odd, have you seen the girls?", he asked.

"They haven't gotten here yet, I guess," he said between mouthfuls. ":Maybe they'll be here any second."

Almost as if on cue, the two girls walked into the cafeteria, worry on their faces.

"We need to talk," They said at the same time.

"What's wrong?", Asked Jeremy, worried even more.

"Something happened to me last night, I saw someone, or something, I'm not sure." Aelita was holding her head, as if trying to remember the details. All she could remember was a jumble; someone named 'X', two spires, a message.

"Xana," Jeremy and Ulrich glanced at each other nervously.

"No, not Xana, I don't know, but it wasn't him. It was someone else." She shook her head, holding it.

"Did he hurt you?", Asked a worried Jeremy.

"No, but he showed me something, of Lyoko.

"There's something else," Jeremy said. "Sometime during the night I-"

"Well if it isn't Ulrich and his friends," said an annoying voice from behind them. The group turned around to see a smug-looking Sissy approaching them.

"Hello Sissy, as ugly as ever I see." Ulrich remarked.

The girl looked shocked, her face turning red, not expecting this remark so quickly.

"And your face has turned this lovely color of red. I bet if you stood right under of an apple tree, you'd blend right in." Yumi said, almost uncharacteristically.

Odd exploded with laughter, bits of food spraying out over the tray and table.

If Sissy wasn't already apple red, she was now.

"Well I _was_ going to ask if you would come to the dance with me, but I think I've changed my mind!" At that, she stormed off to find her own gang.

"Maybe we shouldn't go so hard on her that was sort of a cheap shot." Odd was surprisingly taking pity on her.

"Jeremy, what were you going to say earlier?" Yumi turned to the bespectacled kid.

He looked around himself at his friends. "I think someone _knows_." He said at last.

"I know," Aelita said. "That person, whoever he was, said we would find something important on Lyoko."

Jeremy glanced at his watch. "Class begins soon. We should talk more again about this after school."


	7. 7: Discovery, Part One

**THE DISCOVERY, part 1**

_Venice, Italy_

_The others_, he thought. _The others will be beginning it soon. The End._

The man in the black robe stared out from the narrow window of an apparently run-down Catholic cathedral, looking out at what could account for the local equivalent of rush-hour traffic of boats and skiffs on the narrow canals and waterways that snaked through Venice like blue-hued ribbons. The man wanted to be back on familiar ground, the rough-and-tumble neighborhoods of London had always had a certain appeal to him. Maybe he would get that chance, go on vacation in a couple of days, if nothing drastic or eventful happened.

Unfortunately, that was years ago, when he was still so innocent. When he was still just another unknown delinquent. Before his elder brother ,Jon, one day revealed to him the family secret.

A secret, that all of the members of his extended family, are and were, members of a secret society.

A society called the Illuminati.

Surprisingly of all, Francis Mandrel had not been surprised himself. Eventually he became a member of the Society himself, through ceremony and blood oath, and he was surprisingly adept at arranging the accounts and balancing the budgets of a secret Order, something he could attribute partially to his photographic memory.

Over time he and his brother rose through the ranks, straight to the top. Francis, himself Second-in-Command, overseeing anything having to do with either of two things: time and money.

His brother was adept at handling the planning, specifically of the Plan itself.

The Plan, as it was now being called by those who were responsible for designing and conceptualizing it Francis included, was just months away from being enacted. He knew very well what it would do to the balance of power in the world.

"Well, daydreaming again, brother?"

It was Jon, his elder brother and mentor. He had entered the room in total silence, as usual. He was the only one Francis knew "who didn't push air out in front of him as he walked", as Jon was often remarked of as.

"It's too hot and humid here for my taste, I'll just be glad when we get back to jolly ol' London."

We are leaving sooner than we intended. The Plan's schedule has been accelerated."

What for, why?" This was surprising. Francis was usually one of the first to know about anything concerning schedule changes, especially concerning the Plan. It must have been an immediate decision by his brother alone.

"You already know about the unfortunate demise of the American President, do you not?"

"Who doesn't know by now. I can't even take a dump without hearing about it." The issue had been all over every paper, magazine, and television station, all over earth for the last week. It was starting to get sickening, hearing about it constantly, from everyone and everywhere.

Jon chuckled at his joking. Then his face got a look of seriousness in it. "Well, from this report from our contacts inside the American FBI seem to indicate that he was assassinated."

"How So?"

"Apparently old Thornton had an unscheduled phone call with a person of unknown origin. The call was recorded by the on-board flight recorder, and I just finished reading the transcript. It seems that the person who made the call may have been the one who 'silenced' him."

'Kill' usually was not used inside the Illuminati, it was too rough a word. 'Silence', on the other hand, was more sublime.

"Well brother, does this mystery person have a name?"

"I'm afraid so, we have heard it before. Apparently he goes by the name Xana."

Francis's eyes suddenly widened. "The Tibet incident."

"I know," Jon replied. You read the report as well."

"I did." Francis paused for a moment, trying to remember the details. He had read the classified document out of curiosity, and because of the bizarre circumstances surrounding the ship. He didn't remember many of the details. It did mention the name, and another similar to it. "Well where does that leave us?"

It has screwed everything up, that bastard's death. We may have to push on ahead of schedule." Jon turned and promptly left.

Francis looked back out the window, at the various boats in the canal. _Screwed up everything indeed. _He thought. It looked like he wasn't taking an all-important vacation from work after all.

_Paris, France_

"Okay, slow down. Tell us what happened again, this time slower."

They had met up after school had ended in Jeremy's room. Odd and Ulrich been nervously waiting to hear what was so important to Einstein and the Princess. Yumi had been told, somewhat. She wouldn't say anything until school had ended for the day. Now they were in the small room that served as Jeremy's bedroom.

Aelita had just ended her short story about the frightful encounter with the strange person in the hallway the night before. The place of two spires, the 'tomb', the person's strange, singsong voice. Her dream before it all happened.

And her friends had listened intently as she recounted her encounter the previous night.

"-and he just vanished, as if he was never there."

"I think it was Xana, regardless of what he would say," Yumi said.

Ulrich spoke up. "But if it was Xana, wouldn't he just try harming Aelita?"

"And who is this Ashton Cray?" Yumi asked.

If I remember from Franz Hopper's diary, he was one if the members of Project Carthage," Replied Jeremy. He worked with Franz Hopper with the other members, but I don't understand the part about the tomb. Aelita, as far as I know, you and your father were the only ones who ever went to Lyoko."

"Jeremy. I honestly don't know what to think, Xana would have just tried to harm me, but I don't know who else it could have been-" Then she remembered that Jeremy had something to say too.

"Jeremy, didn't you have something to say to us too?"

"I did. I'm so stupid, I can't believe I could have forgotten it!"

"Forgotten what?" everyone else in the room said almost in unison.

I had something to show you guys too. I got this e-mail sometime last night-well just see for yourself." A text box appeared on the screen:

_Jeremy,_

_I could be your best friend or your worst enemy. You'll make that decision when we meet. You and your friends are in over your heads, and I may be able to help. I will find you when I need you._

_TF_

They were all shocked at this. The e-mail didn't admit it, but someone somewhere had finally found out about their secret. But who?

Whoever this person is, Jeremy thought, he was right about one thing, they _were_ in over their heads. They were going to help to keep fighting their nemesis.

Odd was thinking for a moment about what Aelita had said. _Two spires with a lake in the middle,_ it sounded familiar. Then he remembered it.

"Hey Jeremy, remember back when Xana corrupted the Superscan, and I had to search through Lyoko to find the activated Tower?"

Jeremy spun around in his chair. "Yeah, what about it?"

"When I was in the Mountain Sector, I remember seeing something like that, two mountains, with rocks and a pool of water and trees, but I never thought anything of it Aelita mentioned it."

"Maybe we should at least check this place out," Ulrich said. "If there's something there, it would be worth a look."

"I agree," replied Yumi. "If there's something important there that could help us fight Xana now more than ever, we should at least find out what it is-"

"But what if it is a trap left by Xana?" Jeremy interrupted.

"I don't think so Einstein," replied Odd. Remember he doesn't need Lyoko anymore, you said so yourself."

"You're right."

"A brief silence, then Aelita spoke up. So, should we try to see?"

"Okay, let's go check it out. That guy did say it was our destiny."

They all got a few chuckles out of that one.

"The verdict?" asked the old man.

It's not good, Sir. The disappearances are getting worse, now they're on land. There are reports coming in of mass disappearances in several coastal cities in Florida, as well as in Bermuda, Cuba, Haiti, and The Bahamas, basically all of the Caribbean nations. The Search-and-Recovery for the President has been called off and the 2nd and 4th Carrier Fleets that were on the scene have been evacuated from the area. There are also reports of Martial Law being declared in several of the nations in the Caribbean Theatre, but those are just rumor so far."

"How so, T-Bone?

"Radio or any other form of communications is intermittent at best to and from the Caribbean. There's some kind of electromagnetic field forming out there, jamming digital communications. We would have more success with smoke signals."

"What about anticipated casualties?"

"At the Current rates, Sir, we could be looking at losses in the tens of millions, and that is the positive view."

Texas was lost in thought for a moment. Well then, let's hope those kids figure it all out before then."

"Yes," T-Bone replied, "Let's hope."


	8. 8: Discovery, Part Two

**DISCOVERY, part 2**

The group traveled through the tunnels to the factory quickly and quietly, eager for another adventure, though it could very well be the last.

Then again, every time they traveled to Lyoko it could have been their last. Because of the ever-present Digital Void, death was very real.

As Ulrich rode through the tunnel on his skateboard, he thought about what they could find. A tomb? According to Jeremy, aside from themselves, Franz Hopper was the only other one ever to go to Lyoko.

Jeremy had been thinking similar thoughts. Hopper had only made a couple of references to Cray, as well as to something called 'Project Gossamer'. Jeremy had no idea what that was, Hopper never made any other mention of it.

Maybe these mysteries would be solved at this so-called 'tomb'.

They arrived at the bottom of the shaft. The climb up the ladder and the trip down the elevator also passed in total silence. Jeremy felt like he was going to a funeral. The silence was almost suffocating.

It was that simply no one had anything left to say. All that was left to do was to actually go in and check the Spire plateau out to see if what the Stranger had said was true.

Jeremy took his place at the monitor console. The holomap of Lyoko flickered to life behind him. His friends, one level below entered the Scanners.

"Okay Yumi, Ulrich, you go first."

They two teenagers entered the tube-like scanners.

"Transfer, Ulrich. Transfer, Yumi. Scanner. Virtualization."

On the monitor screen in front of him, Jeremy saw two green dots appear.

He did the same for Odd and Aelita. Moments later a green and yellow dot representing Odd and Aelita, respectively, appeared next to those belonging to Ulrich and Yumi.

"Okay guys, the plateau with these two mountains is on the edge of the Mountain Sector-That's strange."

On Lyoko, the gang was waiting for instructions. "What is it Jeremy?" asked Aelita.

The plateau, at least according to the map, it's not connected to any of the other plateaus. It has no paths to it. You'll need your vehicles to reach it."

"No problem Einstein, I don't mind a flight." Odd replied.

Moments later their rides appeared in front of them.

"Your taxi, Princess." Yumi said as she helped Aelita board the Overwing.

Under the watchful eye of Jeremy, the short trip passed uneventfully. No more monsters to harass them. No more Xana or Scyphozoa or Franz Hopper. Lyoko now seemed very dead.

The Spire plateau came into view. It was just as Aelita described it: A large pair of cragged mountain that tapered to points. Between them sat a rather large pool of water, as well as clumps of small trees and piles of rock. There was no trace of anything like an entrance.

"Jeremy, should we go in for a closer look?" Ulrich asked.

"I can't see anything from here. Anyways we need to find out what is down there."

"Okay." He then glanced over to his fellow warriors. "Well, what are we waiting for, let's go down there."

When they set foot on the unreachable plateau, there was nothing much except rocks and trees Lots of rocks and trees.

"You should split up, see if you can find anything out of the ordinary."

"If you say so Jeremy." replied Odd.

They fanned out across the narrow valley formed by the two peaks that soared far above their heads. Just short of half way the stopped at the large reflecting pool, located dead center of the plateau.

Ulrich gazed at his own reflection in the still waters. He remembered something back from one of their earlier travels.

"Odd, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Yep, sure am." He took a step back, and took off running, jumping over the edge, out over open water-

-and splashed into a virtual pool, sending out a geyser of water.

Odd's head bobbed to the surface. "Well, I guess this really is a pool of water and not another imaginary one."

He hauled himself out of the water, soaking wet.

"Jeremy, there's nothing here I'm afraid, I may have been wrong about my vision," Aelita said

Back in the monitor room, Jeremy was squinting at the wireframe map for anything out of the ordinary.

"Maybe you're right. I don't see anything that looks like an entrance of any kind," replied Jeremy.

And suddenly he heard a voice behind him.

You're wrong, there is an entrance. You just can't see it."

Jeremy spun around in his chair, looking for the intruder. He was standing next to the elevator, leaning on the wall. The man was dressed in some kind of business suit, maybe middle-aged by his face. His lower body was partially obscured by the shadows.

"W-Who are you?"

"Jeremy," said a familiar voice from the computer. What's happening? Who are you talking to?

"Who am I?" The man said. I guess I am a possible friend. I've already acquainted myself with your lady friend; Aelita's her name I believe?"

"You're the G-Man?" Jeremy asked, surprised.

"Jeremy, what's going on?" Ulrich pleaded from the computer.

"You're not talking in rhyme like Aelita said you did," Jeremy noted.

"Different people experience things differently. So different people see and hear me differently."

"Jeremy what's going on?" Yumi's voice from the computer too.

"If you are looking for the entrance," the G-man said, glancing down at the floor. He then glanced back up at Jeremy. You should look outside the box." With those words, he stepped back into the shadows, then disappeared altogether, but his voice remained for a moment. "You'll find a key. A key to a set of keys." And then he was gone completely.

_Look outside the box_, he had said. What the hell did he mean by that? Then Jeremy realized it.

"What's going on Jeremy? Please answer!" The voices of his friends broke him out of a momentary daze.

"I'm sorry I didn't."

"We got worried when you said something about that G-man guy," Yumi said. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Uh, guys, get to the nearest Tower. I'm devirtualizing you. We're going at this the wrong way."

"What do you mean?"

"Just trust me on this."

Ten minutes later they were all in the Supercomputer Room.

Ulrich started. "Okay Jeremy, what's this about?"

"Spread out, look for anything strange or out of place."

"What for?" asked Odd.

"It's something that G-Man guy said, 'look outside the box'. I think he meant outside of Lyoko, here in the supercomputer room."

"Okay, anything specifically we should be looking for?" asked Yumi.

"He said something about keys. Try that."

Moments later they were combing the walls, the floor, craning their heads at the ceiling, looking for anything out of place. Odd even began to pull panels off the floor.

"Hey, anyone found anything?"

"No. You?" asked Yumi

"Nothing, unless these panels are made of Magic-Miracle-Appear material," he said as he tossed a panel to the floor.

Ulrich stopped at about the center of the far wall. "Hey, I think I found something."

The rest of the gang rushed over to where she stood. There on the wall, barely visible, was a tiny Xana's Eye. It was engraved in a slight, ridged depression set in the concrete.

Jeremy took a closer look. "You know, this looks like a-"

"-A thumbprint, yeah, I noticed." Ulrich said.

Something was clicking at the back of Aelita's mind. Almost without thinking, she stepped up to the wall and, without thinking placed her thumb against the symbol.

What happened next made them all step well back. The entire wall began to glow with some kind of inner light as it began to melt like candle wax outward from the thumbprint symbol, retracting inward on itself. What remained was a slot in the wall, placed inside was a small metal box.

"Whoa." Was the only word mumbled by the stunned group.

Almost still by instinct, Aelita walked up to the wall, and took the box.

The rest of the group crowded around. "Well," said Yumi, open it.

The small box was sealed with a simple latch. Jeremy unclasped it and swung the lid open. Inside was a CD, closed inside a protective case.

_A key to a set of keys._

Jeremy reached in and took the small disk. "I think I know what to do with this."


	9. 9: Discovery, Part Three

**THE DISCOVERY part 3**

In a darkened room inside a large warehouse on the outskirts of Paris, a handful of had been tasked with one thing: To make sure that a handful of kids miles away are never once out of sight of the watchful eyes of James Fitzgerald.

Their every move was monitored, around the clock. Their calls to each other were tapped and recorded. Even their minds were not safe, as a pair of assigned psychologists, straight from a CIA Special Case Unit understood their every thought.

All of this impressed T-Bone, she had only sat in on a single meeting and spoken only once, but Texas' persuasive words had increased their funding and resources tenfold. It was also probably influenced by Politicians who feared the loss of any more important voters to mass coastal disappearances. Thousands had already bizarrely vanished without a trace, from their cars, beds, workplace. One second they were there, next they vanished in a blue-white light, literally where they sat.

The nations of the world watched those of the Caribbean in nervous anticipation. The island countries had all gone silent since the EM field had spread across the Southwest-Central Atlantic. Not a single radio or satellite signal could penetrate the field, and navigation was hazardous to the point of being impossible, as magnetic compasses went haywire and GPS navigation was scrambled. And flight was completely out of the question.

She began to realize the worst was still to come. With access to the Gulf Coast Refineries completely cut off, Tankers carrying precious crude could not reach their destinations. As a result, the price of gas had risen to unheard-of sums; in some places reaching eight dollars a gallon. And it would only rise.

T-Bone wondered how the grizzled man who sat next to her had become so influential, so powerful. All she knew for sure was that James Fitzgerald was on a whole other level. Her old ally for the past ten years had become more mysterious than she could have ever fathomed.

A very familiar face opened the door to the spacious office, a face she had known for since this began. Rocky walked in, carrying a tray filled with coffee mugs. The operators noticed this and each grabbed one, thankful for the insomniac's cure.

"Well, if it isn't our courageous top agent that T-Bone has so highly appraised," Texas waved him over.

Even though he was no longer part of the Navy, technically speaking, Rocky still crisply saluted him.

"Former Lieutenant Kent Perego. U.S. Navy Seals."

"At ease, soldier. I read your dossier on the flight over here. My associate here'" he said gesturing to T-Bone, "thinks highly of you. Tell me Rocky, do you understand children?"

"No sir. Not greatly. Speaking of kids, how about our little operation here? Why is it that we are placing so many resources on it?"

"Let's just say that too many cooks will spoil the pot. I believe you had something for me?"

"Ah, yes." Rocky went over to the now empty tray. On it was also a manila envelope. It had been stamped 'TOP SECRET', but that didn't matter. He handed it to Texas.

This is the list of mission specifics, the codewords and such among other things. Also includes the backgrounds of those kids we are watching."

Texas flipped the envelope open and quickly scanned the contents; one was a thick binded packet labeled 'PROJECT CARTHAGE.' Yet another was a list of currently active CIA personnel in the European Theater. Among these was a piece of paper labeled 'MAIN TGT CALLSIGNS'. It began with a correlation between names and colors:

MAIN:

Belpois, Jeremy-Blue

Stones/Hopper, Aelita-Pink

'Odd' Della-Robbia, Jaques -Purple

Ishiyama, Yumi-Yellow

Stern, Ulrich-Green

OTHER:

Xanadu-Black

Xana-Red

"I see you took the initiative and put both down." Texas said, looking up from reading.

"Yes, sir, I did."

"One is bad, two of them are worse."

Texas folded the folded and placed it in his coat pocket. "Indeed it is, soldier. Indeed it is."

"With your permission sir," asked Rocky, "Could I know how you got involved in this in the first place?"

The man turned out to face the window, overlooking the river. "That is a long story, not for this time and place. However, I can tell you I was one of the first to say hello to him."

"Which one, sir?"

"That's the million-dollar question, isn't it? _Which one?_"

Rocky hesitated for a moment. "I suppose you mean-"

"-The one that began this fine mess we are all now in so many years ago, yes, that one."

At that moment, a computer operator walked over to T-Bone, carrying a printout.

"Uh, sir, you may want to look at this," He handed the document to his CO, and then returned to his post.

T-Bone looked at the document. "Well, it looks like the kids have found something interesting." She then passed it to Texas, who read it himself. After the last line, Texas simply smiled.

"What would that be?" asked Rocky.

Texas glanced up from the paper. "It would seem my old friend Hopper left more than just memories to his daughter."

Jeremy had been working on the program on the disc they found for the better part of six hours, but and he had finally began to make progress cracking it. He had found that it was similar to Franz Hopper's almost legendary encryption, but different. It was different in the fact that it wasn't only multilayered, but it also required an almost titanic amount of computing power to crack. The single decryption program was taxing his custom computer to its limits.

This coding wasn't written by Franz Hopper, the blond boy thought. This code was a great deal more complex.

Another thing that both impressed and scared Jeremy at the same time was how the disc was revealed to the group in the first place. He could still imagine how the seemingly rock-solid concrete wall behaved like water for those few brief moments, how it flowed and retracted into itself. He was not aware of anything that could do that.

The boy could feel sleep creeping into his mind, the eye strain was beginning to take its toll. But he couldn't stop, he thought. This was all too incredible. It was-

There was a sudden knock at his door. His concentration had shattered in an instant.

"Come in," he said as he began to type again.

The door opened, and Ulrich walked in, already in his nightclothes.

"Hey, are you still awake?" he asked

"I'm not tired. That was too amazing, what that wall did. And this disc is even more amazing. This coding is unlike anything I have ever seen."

"It's nearly midnight, you should get some sleep."

"I'm almost done. It'll be a few more minutes."

"What are you working on, anyway?"

"The final layer of the encryption, I'm almost finished cracking it."

Ulrich walked over to what had his friend so engrossed. All he saw was lines and lines of binary code, all hopelessly confusing to most anyone except Jeremy or Aelita.

"It's too confusing for me, I think Ill just leave the complicated stuff to you." The brown haired boy turned around and left the room.

When he got to the doorway, He stopped. His right hand was looking strange, the texture morphing, just like it did in the bathroom a couple of days before. It seemed as if it was trying to form…scales.

But as sudden as it happened, it was gone. The flesh on his arm turned back to its normal appearance. He decided holding off telling Jeremy or the others he was seeing things, they'd probably think he was crazy. They already had enough to deal with, School, shape-shifting walls, and a maniacal computer program that was probably planning world annihilation. And on top of that he was in need of sleep.

He traced his way back to his and Odd's room. He barely made it through the door before collapsing on his bed, dead tired. Odd had fallen asleep nearly an hour ago, full of spaghetti and mystery meatballs from dinner. It was only moments before he too drifted off, exhausted from a day of discoveries.

Yumi awoke at a start, drenched in sweat, breathing hard. She had had a serious nightmare.

She had been running through the woods, as hard as she could. It was night, she could remember that much. She had been running from something, afraid, scared, fearful. A voice from the shadows called to her, taunting her. But it wasn't a normal voice, not in the audible sense. It was as if she hear it in her mind.

"_Stop running, little girl, and accept what you are, what you have become!"_

She ran harder, nearly tripping, stumbling but recovering. Tripping again, this time going down hard in pain, pulling or breaking her leg.

She had tried to get up but couldn't. She heard footsteps, crunching in the foliage.

"_Turn around, little girl, and face yourself, your end."_

Yumi could remember looking over her shoulder at her pursuer and-

She woke up. Just like that. She could still feel the pain from her injury, the fear of her pursuer. It had been so graphic, so real. She was drenched in a cold sweat, and almost felt nauseous.

The young woman shakily got out of bed, her head pounding suddenly. She remembered a bottle of aspirin in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. She walked out into the hall to the bathroom, unsteady on her feet.

Pulling open he cabinet door, she fumbled around inside, looking for the right bottle. Finding it, she promptly opened it, pouring out two small gel caps. Without the aid of water, she promptly swallowed them, feeling as they went down. Within seconds she began to feel them work. Relieved of the pain, she placed the bottle back in its respectful place on the shelf and closed the cabinet door-

-And Yumi almost shrieked when she saw her own reflection.

Her face was still normal, but her eyes had changed, radically. No longer were the irises round, they had become elliptical, shaped like a cat's. Then she noticed how everything was so clear, how she noticed almost everything, how she instantly saw every movement. She was somehow seeing color differently the bathroom seemed so crisp and bright. Her hand came to her face at an impulse and for a brief instant she noticed every ridge and crease in her palm.

But as how it was so sudden, it changed. Right before her eyes, literally, they changed back to normal, retracting into their original shape. Yumi pinched herself in the arm to make sure she really wasn't still dreaming. Then she remembered what that person had told her in her dream:

"_Stop running, little girl, and accept what you are, what you have become!"_

What? She thought. What is happening to her?


	10. 10: Jungle Rats

**7:15 a.m.**

**Democratic Republic of the Congo**

**30 miles southeast of Kisangani**

The trio of rugged SUVs bounced down the muddy trail that passed for a road in Africa. The vehicles each contained four passengers, a driver and a trio of highly armed soldiers. However, as it the case of the one in the middle of the line, a driver, a pair of heavily armed bodyguards, and a ruggedly dressed man who was their charge. The man that they were sitting around was dressed as ruggedly as the two guards; he wore a pair of mud-caked combat boots, wore Jungle Camo, and was armed similarly as well, he packed both a .357 magnum and a reliable AK-47 automatic assault rifle, stockless and slung partly over his shoulder. Though his eyes were shielded by a pair of wrap-around nonreflective sunglasses, it was still possible to tell what his mood was, a state of anxiety.

It was being discovered that the populations of the local villages that lined the Congo Basin were disappearing, being slaughtered by unknown foes. Except for the occasional puddle or smear of blood, there were few other indications as to who was responsible. Not even bodies.

Gregory "Bullseye" Keaston was upset because he didn't have a clue as to who the culprits could be. As a man who prided himself in knowing what every last thing that was happening in the Congo, the mystery deeply disturbed him. No one went out into the jungle on patrol. Nor to even use the bathroom. Even Keaston wasn't taking any chances. He had left nearby Kisanagi with a full guard entourage, all of his bodyguards armed to the teeth. He was taking these precautions for a variety of reasons, most and foremost was the fact that he preferred to live to sixty.

Everyone was nervous, on edge. They didn't know which of the remaining handful of villages would be next, if they themselves were next. The four Merc bases in the Congo kept near continuous radio contact.

Keaston was the Leader of an Elite company of mercenaries, known throughout the region as "5 Commando". Lately they had been hired by the Congolese Government to foot security in the sparsely populated forest that made up much of the territory. Keaston personally disliked such a menial job, rather fighting in the numerous civil wars that regularly occurred in Africa, and not brandishing weapons at villagers to keep them in line. Still, Security paid the bills.

But the current situation with the butchered villages was beyond Keaston's scope. He couldn't understand who would benefit from such atrocious actions, or even who it was.

Keaston only knew one thing: There were now secret, unknown forces at work in the Congo.

Soon, their transport arrived at a heavily guarded gate. Beyond was a sprawling network of buildings and roads, carved out of the thick rainforest. A Among them was a small airstrip, reserved for helicopters and VTOL (vertical take-off and landing) aircraft. As their vehicle pulled into the base, Keaston could see a pair of Harrier jump-jets on the strip, surplus from the Royal Air Force. The other two were missing, probably still on patrol.

The brown SUV stopped in front of a rather small building that served as the base Command Center. Keaston opened the door and stepped out into a rather humid morning. He knew that he would be sweating before nine.

A Merc hurried out of the building to greet his CO then firmly saluted Keaston.

"At ease, soldier."

Keaston entered the structure, quickly making his way to the small room that served as his office at Alpha Site, 5 Commando's main base of operations. The few decorations were mainly a mix of mounted antique rifles and shotguns, as well as a small, worn model ship that sat on a small lockbox in the corner.

Keaston plopped down in the small but comfortable chair that was the room's only apparent comfort. He shrugged, seeing the stack of reports that had gathered on his desk in the three days that had spent in Kinshasa, the DRC's capital. The Congolese President had called Keaston and several other defense contractors and ranking generals to a secret meeting to discuss the security of the Congo. He could tell that the President was nervous, nervous about the events taking place half a world away in the Caribbean.

Keaston's observation of a sweaty Congolese President reinforced his view on a key human characteristic: Man fears what he sees and cannot understand.

You fear the jungle because you cannot see more than ten yards into it. That was why men only ever traveled into the Jungle heavily armed to the teeth with various weapons of their choice.

He began to wonder how he could use this current situation to gain leverage over the leader of the DRC, perhaps to gain more power in the Congo, when a nervous-looking Merc hurried in and saluted him. It was Sergeant Jack Defoe, the ranking CO of Alpha Site and the guy in charge when Bullseye himself wasn't available. They went back to the early days of the firs Congo war, and had been good buddies since. He was one of the few men Keaston would fully trust with his life.

"At ease, report."

"Sir," he started, "We sent out a Harrier patrol at oh-seven-thirty, sir. The patrol never returned."

This only annoyed Keaston. "Have you tried hailing them?"

"Yes sir, we even contacted the airstrips in the immediate area, as well as our auxiliary camps. No one at any of them has reported contact."

"What about radar, don't tell me they pulled a Houdini on that too?"

"That's what I meant sir, they vanished. We were preparing to send up our other two Jets when you arrived unexpectedly. I came here immediately to request you approval for the mission."

"Granted. Things are screwed up enough as it is, I don't want to lose a couple of valuable pilots to jungle fever. Dismissed."

The last word was barely out of Keaston's mouth when alarm sirens begat to go off all over the base. He and the Merc officer who reported sprung into action, double-timing it up two floors to the Command Room. People either sat at monitor stations watching computer screens or shouted into radios or telephones, but all of them were noisy. Keaston and Defoe walked up to the chief Monitor.

"Get the Congolese Air Force on he line, we got a situation-"

"One lone plane, traveling south, speed five-eighty-"

"Where are they, they're not on radar-"

Keaston stormed up to an operator, the Merc was talking furiously to the person on the other end.

"What the hell do you mean those Mig Jets are unavailable? Half the Congo's being invaded!"

"Soldier, what in hell is going on?"

Sir, glad to see a friendly face. One of the Harrier patrol planes reappeared on radar sir. He's radioed that he is being attacked."

"What? By who?"

He's not making any sense, something about Manta Rays."

"Manta Rays? What the Hell?"

"That's what's he's saying Sir." The Merc walked over to a circular radar screen and pointed to a tight cluster of dots on the screen.

"This is them, sir. They're too small to be piloted jets. Maybe drones?"

"The Congo Army doesn't have drones," Defoe said.

Keaston went for the radio mike and began speaking to the distressed flyer. "Pilot, this is Bullseye, report again. Who is attacking you?"

"A shaky voice crackled fro the other end.

"I don't know sir they came out of nowhere. There's at least a dozen of them."

"Where's your wingman?"

"He's dead sir, they got to him first. They're toying with us. I'm going mach one and they're flying circles around me-" The pilot's voice became increasingly hysterical. "Oh my god there closing in, holy-"

The line suddenly turned to static as a blip disappeared from the screen.

"Holy shit, we lost him," was the only words Defoe said.

Memories of the failed mission in Tibet flooded back to Keaston Flying Mantas. The Sentinel. He prayed that it wasn't this. Not now.

"Sir the blips are still on radar, bearing two-two-six. Shit, they're heading for us!

"The ETA," Keaston asked, half-shouting.

"Two minutes sir!"

"Okay, that's it, Battle Stations, everyone! Activate the SAMS, prepare to fire on my command." Keaston barked orders, and his underlings obeyed immediately.

We're receiving target telemetry, visuals still thirty seconds away. The bandits aren't generating heat for the SAMS to lock on. They're not registering on the IR sensors."

"Then activate all available AA Guns., They don't need heat." In all of his years, Bullseye had never heard of a plane that produced no heat. Even the Stealth Fighters the Americans used produced visible heat. What the hell were these things?

Suddenly a new noise filled the now crowded Control Room. A proximity alarm.

"Now what," shouted Bullseye.

"Sir we're detecting multiple targets approaching overland, twelve hundred yards and closing fast."

"How many of these things now?"

"At least a half dozen Sir, range one thousand, Damn, they're fast."

Send a message to Kinshasa," he told the radio operator. "Tell them we're under attack by unknown forces, Will hold as long as possible."

"Yes sir," he replied.

"Now mobilize forces to combat those approaching overland."

"The range is five hundred yards, visible any second."

Keaston hurried to an observation window. What he saw in the distance scared him.

Whatever they were they were ripping through everything, trees, shrubs, ground foliage, all of it was sent flying through the treetops by the approaching bandits, sent flying through the air like missiles. And then they were here.

Keaston barely saw them, they were moving so swiftly under their own kinetic force. What he saw was what looked like a half dozen giant cannonballs had just flew from the treeline, several had enough free space to roll to a halt, the other three not so fortunate. One ripped into a barracks and out the other side, sending the contents of it flying before stopping. Another had slammed into the side of the Mess Hall, punching a hole through it and disappearing inside. The last had rolled down the short airstrip and rammed the doors of a small closed hangar, narrowly missing a Huey helicopter, nearly bowing them in.

Keaston instantly recognized them for what they were. In the last second of normal life he glimpsed the blank eyes that belonged to the rest of the army, _His_ army. And then he knew it. The End had begun. It was his last thought as the various creatures began to rip his world apart.

A split second later the two-story, wood-framed Mess Hall simply exploded outwards, chunks of flaming debris showered down on the surrounding structures, setting them ablaze in the process. On cue, the next Tank fired its Ring Laser, almost completely destroying the barracks it had just ripped through, along with the nearly three dozen soldiers still inside.

Another explosion ripped through Command itself, blowing out the entire upper level and instantly killing everyone inside. Keaston and Defoe had split to the central stairwell when everything clicked in their heads at seeing It's minions return for them. They were halfway down to the First Floor when the explosion above sent them flying. Burning debris and glass rained down on them and they hurriedly got of the now hazardous stairwell.

Chaos and pandemonium reigned outside. The Tanks had quickly made short work of the Mercs who despite a valiant fight, had succumbed in the end. The Creatures had proceeded to make short work of everything else. But even as they searched through the charred ruins of the facility, they discovered that their primary targets were not among the dead.

Their quarry, despite all odds, had somehow escaped.

In the hours after a message was sent to the Congolese Government from the 5 Commando Main Base, more reports of attacks by an unknown force began to surface. Rumors of mass slaughter and destruction taking place in the jungles of Central Africa were slow to make it to the news in those first crucial hours of what would eventually be called the Siege. It would be days before the story hit full light. Days further before the Governments of Earth could take action.

Just like Xanadu wanted.

_Well, thisis where I left off for a while. Some of the changes have helped answer some of the questions about things that should have never come up. This story is far from dead. Stay tuned for future updates._


End file.
